Fuck You
by TheGirlWhoDancesWithAlphas
Summary: Stiles was sick of giving up everything for the pack and being repaid in bruises and concussions, He is not a punching bag thank you very much. After Derek smashes him into a particularly painful wall Stiles snaps and Derek, well Derek thinks its kind of hot.


His back hit concrete, head slamming against the hard surface and crying out in pain. He didn't really know when he had gotten this fed up with all of this, but this was the straw that broke the camels back. Stiles snapped.

"You know what, I get that you are having an ego trip here and you need to slam something against a wall but find another fucking punching bag, I'm getting real tired of explaining to Mrs. McCall why I've got concussions all the fucking time!" he exclaimed pushing back against the werewolf.

Somewhere, inside stiles knew it was a fucking bad idea. A really fucking bad idea. He knew that pissing Derek off would result in a one way ticket to deadsville, but in this moment, you couldn't pay him enough money to give a shit.

He was tired, he was sore, and he was not in the mood to be shoved into walls. He didn't give a crap about creatures of the night and their obsessive need to bruise the living crap out of them. He didn't care that Derek could, and probably would dismember him slowly while laughing. He just didn't care.

There was a look of shock on Derek's face that stiles had never seen before, and if he wasn't so pissed off he probably would have made some wisecrack about Derek having more than one emotion, or about the fact that his eyebrows looked like they were going to become part of his hair.

But stiles was pissed.

He was beyond pissed.

He was livid.

"Do you even get how much I do for you? I lie to my only living family member on a daily basis; I haven't slept in three days because you needed research done and apparently have no fucking clue how to use Google." His tone was accusing, each statement punctuated by a sharp jab to Derek's chest. "I'm failing almost every single class because even though I'm not sleeping, and doing more work than should be humanly possible, none of it is for class. I'm a target for not only werewolves because I'm not one, but hunters because I'm a sympathizer and I don't even know why I am because all I get in return is bruises, and cuts, and broken bones, and concussion after concussion after concussion from you, and Erica, and fucking argent slamming me into walls because I can't defend myself!"

Stiles managed a breath, glaring daggers at Derek because come on. His life freaking sucked right now and really, it was pretty much Derek's fault. He didn't mind doing everything, and he wasn't even looking for a thank you. He was just sick of being treated like shit.

"Well you know what, fuck you. Fuck you and your stupid alpha werewolf shit and your pushing me into walls when you know I am the only one who won't heal. Next time you need something, stay the hell away from my window because I may not be strong, but I have picked up a few tricks along the way and even if it doesn't kill you, I will not hesitate to shoot you. Repeatedly. In the face."

Stiles huffed, and Derek backed up.

And okay he wasn't expecting that one… because yeah he had flipped out but at this point he was expecting growling, and yelling, and probably to be slammed into the wall again because he had just fucking threatened the alpha. It was a miracle he was still breathing let alone winning the argument.

Stiles just stood there, dumbfounded but holding his glare, because he had made it this far and he wasn't going to give up now just because he was a little surprised.

"I'm sorry."

Okay so his glare might have faltered, just for a second… but come on. Derek hale. Apologizing. To him! He was allowed about three seconds of slack jawed shock and awe.

"wha…" stiles slammed his mouth shut, no. Derek should be sorry. He better be sorry. He should be groveling at his feet and asking forgiveness in like 20 different languages.

"Good, you should be." He replied puffing his chest out and crossing his arms.

Derek grinned, that fucking shit eating grin that always made stiles want to smile because god it was contagious. But no, he wasn't going to smile now because he was angry.

"You should stand up for yourself more often. Confident is a good look on you."

Annnnd he was back to being dumbfounded, but this time it had the wonderful side effect of his stomach flipping around so violently he thought he might be sick, or say something embarrassing. Word vomit, definitely what was going to happen. He was going to vomit words… unflattering ones because. What the hell was that? That definitely seemed like a compliment, it looked like a compliment, it sounded like a compliment, stiles rolled his tongue around in his mouth, it tasted like a compliment, felt like one, he wasn't really sure if it smelled like one but he was pretty darn sure it was a compliment.

Like a flirting compliment… one you give someone when you flirt.

Not that he knew from experience because people didn't flirt with him. That wasn't his life; people shoved him into walls and threatened to rip out his throat with their teeth. People did not tell him that confidence was a good look on him.

People didn't tell him anything was a good look on him.

Hell, Danny wouldn't even tell him if he was attractive to gay guys and that was a very pressing question that was VERY relevant to his interests.

But this.

This was not happening. It had to be a joke, except Derek doesn't joke. Though it seemed a hell of a lot more likely that Derek would joke than flirt. Especially with him.

Stiles didn't even realize that he was having a mental panic attack, lips pursed, eyes flickering over Derek's face. Dead silent.

For about two minutes before Derek sighed, wrapping his hand around the back of stiles' head before pressing him against the wall. Defiantly more gentle this time but still, the similarities were there. Except no concussion, definitely no concussion.

Though his head did feel really swimmy.

Because Derek's face wasn't even an inch away from his and god, he was getting closer and.

Okay.

So kissing Derek hale had to be one of the wonders of the world. But he really wasn't going to fight to have it added to the list because he wasn't really sure he wanted anyone else to experience it.

Except he still had no clue what was going on.

Like, seriously.

Five minutes ago he was telling Derek to go fuck himself and threatening to shoot him in the face. Over, and over. And now he was pressed against the wall, fingers threading through his hair, moaning when Derek tugged at his lip with his teeth.

And this wasn't even the weirdest thing that had happened to him this week.

Stiles just gave up on analyzing it and kissed back harder, because it was his first kiss and he would be dammed if he wasn't going to enjoy it.

God, he thought, my life is so fucked up.


End file.
